Douglas Jacobson - The Katyn Order

“I hope you know what the fuck you’re doing,” Andreyev snarled. “Those NKVD riflemen won’t be carrying spears.”

Casimir turned to Natalia. “One of my men will stay here and keep an eye on these three. You and the boy are coming with me.”

In the moonlight, Natalia could see that the chapel was heavily guarded. She and Rabbit followed closely behind Casimir, who led the way as the silent Górale hunters proceeded in a wide circle through the forest, gradually surrounding the sturdy, stone building. Six NKVD riflemen with carbines slung over their shoulders stood near a fire about ten meters from the front of the chapel. They smoked cigarettes and joked while meat roasted on a spit over the flames.

Casimir stopped and gestured to one of the hunters, who carried a shotgun and appeared to be the second-in-command. Without a sound, he and five others broke away and slipped deeper into the forest, heading toward the front of the chapel. Two of the five also carried shotguns.

Casimir motioned for Natalia and Rabbit to follow and continued on through the trees toward the rear of the building. A young Górale hunter wearing a black scarf around his neck, trailed closely behind. Casimir led them past the chapel and up an incline into a thick stand of conifers. The ground was spongy with fallen needles. The night air smelled of pine.

Casimir stopped and dropped to one knee, motioning for Natalia and Rabbit to come closer. “You will remain here until we take the building,” he whispered. He gestured toward the young hunter with the black scarf. “Tajik will come for you. If you ever want to see Adam Nowak alive, do not make a sound.”

With Rabbit at her side, Natalia knelt on the soft ground watching Casimir and Tajik slip silently into the forest, armed only with their ciupagas. Rabbit took her hand. “These guys know what they’re doing,” the boy whispered. “I wish I could see them whack the fuckin’ Russians with those axes.”

Natalia wished she felt that confident. It was obvious the Górale were fierce and stealthy hunters. But they were up against heavily armed NKVD troopers. Adam’s life depends on mountain men with spears?

Pine needles pricked her back, and she adjusted her position, peering into the moonlit forest. She could just barely make out the rear of the chapel—a black, square silhouette against the flickering yellow light of the fire. She watched, and listened.

A shadow slipped through the trees.

Another shadow.

Natalia squeezed Rabbit’s hand, listening, straining to hear, every nerve in her body tingling.

Tree limbs creaked in the breeze.

Then a grunt and a muted thud.

Rabbit nudged her elbow and pointed toward the chapel. A flash of movement, a sweeping arc through the firelight.

Another grunt, and a thud.

Quiet.

Then an owl hooted.

A second owl answered.

Without warning, a deafening shotgun blast echoed through the forest.

A second blast, followed by a concussion of rapid gunfire, hammered Natalia’s eardrums.

Then it was quiet.

Natalia knelt on both knees, riveted to the spot, barely able to breathe.

A shadow, very close.

It was Tajik, at the base of the hill, motioning for them to follow.

THE NKVD’S MAIN INTERROGATION ROOM was buried deep in the Dragon’s Den, a cave below Wawel Castle, which Medieval legend held was once inhabited by a man-eating monster. It was sufficiently isolated so that none of the clerks and administrative officials who worked in the castle would be bothered by screams and crunching bones.

Early Friday morning Lieutenant Resnikov stood outside the interrogation room, waiting for the thugs inside to finish their work and haul what was left of the priest back to his cell. The young lieutenant was annoyed. When they’d broken the priest’s nose, blood had spurted everywhere, and his freshly pressed uniform shirt was ruined. The priest had been tougher than he thought, and breaking him down had taken a while, but Resnikov finally got what he needed. He stuck his head inside the interrogation room, grimacing from the stench of blood and body odor, and gave a few last instructions to keep the priest alive. Then he walked away, cursing to himself about the shirt.

When Resnikov reached Tarnov’s office, he was not surprised to see that the door was open and the lights on at this early hour. He was about to enter when he heard the telephone receiver bang down and Tarnov bellow, “Goddamn idiots!”

Lieutenant Resnikov backed away, but Tarnov suddenly appeared in the doorway, face flushed, eyes blazing. “You! Get in here! Bystrýey!”

Resnikov cautiously stepped into the office.

Tarnov slammed the door behind him and barked, “Adam Nowak escaped!”

Resnikov’s stomach twisted in a knot. “Góspadi! How could that happen?”

“The fucking incompetent riflemen you assigned to guard Nowak and his friends were attacked. Malinovsky went up there early this morning, found them all dead. All twelve! Most of them were killed with fucking axes and spears—” Tarnov stopped and waved his hand dismissively. “The details don’t matter. We’ve got to find that son of a bitch, understand?”

The young lieutenant nodded quickly.

“Now, tell me what you got from the priest.”

Resnikov took a deep breath, trying to ignore the beads of sweat trickling down the side of his face. “Tough old bastard. Held out for a long time. But he finally admitted that Ludwik Banach was smuggling Nazi documents from a secret storage room located in the Copernicus Memorial Library. It confirms what we got from Jastremski. Banach gave the documents to Jastremski, who passed them to the priest.”

“Did he say what kind of documents?”

“He said they were from Hans Frank’s secret files but claims he never read them, just passed them along.”

“Passed them to whom?”

“A woman. He claims he only met her a few times. He described her as young, plain-looking, with brown hair. He referred to her as the Conductor.”

Tarnov scoffed. “It’s a fucking code name, completely useless. Does he know where she is?”

Resnikov smiled. His thugs had to practically kill the priest, and they made a hell of a mess, but it was worth it. “He gave me an address,” he said proudly.

“An address? Good work! Where is it?”

“In the eastern section of the Kazimierz District.”

“Get my car.”

Adam woke with a start when he felt a hand brush across his cheek. Natalia smiled at him, then leaned over and kissed his cheek. He looked around, but the room was a blur without his glasses. “Where are we?”

She smiled again. “You were really sound asleep. We’re in Nowy Targ, in an upstairs bedroom in Karol’s house.”

“Karol?”

“A friend of Tytus. He’s with the local militia.”

Adam thought for a moment. It started to come back: the gunfire outside the chapel, Casimir bursting through the door, Górale hunters… then Natalia. There were others. This Karol must have been one of them. “What about Piotr and Krystyna?” he asked.

The smile disappeared from Natalia’s face. “Piotr died on the way down here. You were unconscious in the backseat of the car. Krystyna’s holding her own. She’s in the hospital. Karol snuck her in late last night under a different name.”

Adam’s eyes clouded. “Her baby?”

“The doctor says the baby should be fine, as long as Krystyna can fight the infection. They’re doing what they can.”

Adam wiped his eyes, then sat up slowly, wincing as a bolt of pain shot through his ribs. He wondered how many were broken. Natalia handed him his glasses, and he spotted a familiar face on the other side of the tiny, wallpapered room. “Rabbit?”